


Come A Little Bit Closer

by smithandrogers



Series: Western Belles [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, I just have a lot of FEELINGS about Molly O'Shea, Just lots of fluff, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-20 00:27:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20666294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithandrogers/pseuds/smithandrogers
Summary: You ask Molly to dance.





	Come A Little Bit Closer

**Author's Note:**

> A little inspired by the song Come a Little Closer by Jay & The Americans

“Molly!”

  
You run up the stairs to her as she looked down at you over the banister. “What is it now? At some point you’re gonna have to learn…”

  
You shook your head and her sentence trailed off. “I have a present for you.”

  
Her big green eyes lit up. She chewed her lip, trying not to seem as excited as you knew she was. “A present, for me? Why…” A blush was creeping into her cheeks, “You didn’t have to get me a present.”

  
She was even more lovely when she was flustered. You held up the wrapped box you had brought back from Saint Denis. “Open it.”

  
Molly took your hand instead of the gift and led you to hers and Dutch’s room, sitting you down on the bed before finally taking the gift from you. You watched her, unable to do anything but smile as she carefully removed the ribbon and paper. “A gramophone disc!” She gasped. “Oh my. This must have been so expensive!”

  
You hesitated. Of course it was expensive… but you had stolen it. Molly pursed her lips as she saw the look on your face. “You stole it, didn’t you?”

  
A weak shrug was all she got in response. Molly rolled her eyes and stood, making her way over to the gramophone. You remained sitting on the edge of the bed, trying not to think about how it was Dutch’s. Molly was what you wanted to think about; the way her hair, fiery and curly, caught the sun that filtered through the window; the way her long fingers traced the grooves of the gramophone disc before putting it gently into place; the way a smile spread across her lips as the sounds of a soft ballad began to fill the room. You stood quickly, now was your chance. You stepped forward and bowed to her slightly, holding out your hand. “May I have this dance, madam?”

  
Those sharp eyes regarded you for a moment. She was Dutch’s woman, no matter how much he ignored her, no matter how much they argued… but what harm could come of one dance? You would have been a fool not to ask. She looked so lovely in the orange light of the setting sun; you cared for her so dearly… why not? Your heart skipped a beat as her pale hand slipped into yours. She was taller than you, but you still took the lead; it’s how she liked it. Molly was a damsel, a lady. She liked to be treated as such. You held her close, turning in slow circles in the small room. “I love this song.” She breathed, resting her head against her shoulder.

  
Your knees went a little weak. She was so close, pressed up against you. It wasn’t just the staunch Lemoyne heat that made you sweat. As you danced, she hummed along with the melody, sending shivers down your spine. “You are a lovely dancer.” She complimented you as you turned her round in a spin, giggling as she came back into your arms.

  
“And you are lovely.” You said, words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them.

  
Molly didn’t skip a beat. “You really think so?” She whispered; her breath hot against your neck.

  
“I know so.” You insist.

  
Her hand slid from its position on your shoulder to your neck, caressing you. Your heart ached. “You… you are lovely as well… do you know that?”

  
You swallowed hard, silently praying that you did not make a fool of yourself. Your grip on her waist tightened and she pressed more tightly against you. “You don’t have to…”

  
“You are always so good to me.” She said, cutting you off, “So kind when the others aren’t. You give me more attention than anyone, really. Why? Why do you do that?”

  
“Because…” You struggle to boil down your feelings into a sentence that won’t betray you, “Because I think you deserve the world.”

  
Her lips press to yours in a soft, earnest kiss. You feel as if you have been electrocuted, every fiber of you buzzing. Your arms wrap around her waist as hers wrap around your neck. “What the hell is going on here?”

  
You pull away immediately only to freeze under Dutch’s gaze. Not really knowing what else to do, feeling so very cornered, you sprint for the open window. You dive through it, rolling along the roof, trying to get your footing but slipping off the edge, falling a few feet to the ground. You are sore and bruised for the next week, but, for a kiss from the lovely Miss O’Shea, it was all worth it.


End file.
